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Chapter title is from song by SIXX:AM.
35
Prayers for the Damned – SIXX: AM
"Run" was a woefully unspecific instruction in the orderly place that was Sam's mind. It sparked all sorts of questions, such as "Where to?" and "How quickly?" and the one that always seemed to set people off, "Why?"
But before Sam could get any of those out, Cas' eyes rolled backwards up into his head and Zee collapsed backwards onto the bed, and in the ensuing chaos he met his brother's eyes across the room. Without having to discuss it further, he grabbed and shoved Cas into the Impala while Dean deposited Zee in the Durango, a little hampered by Toby hovering over him with another bottle of holy water in his hand, then they mutely traded keys and cars so that all the humans were in one and all the not-quite-humans were in the other, and Dean took the lead.
They ran.
His cell phone rang.
"Dean?"
"Sam, we've got to stop. I just need to close my eyes…"
Dean's voice slurred over the last word.
"Dean? DEAN!" Sam yelled into the phone. "CAS!"
The Impala ahead of them swerved drunkenly on the road.
"…just for a minute. Sam. I can't…"
He watched in horror as the Impala pulled over the double yellow, rounding the curve precariously and veering off the asphalt.
"DEAN!"
He could see Cas leaning over and grabbing the wheel, steadying the car as Dean slumped forward. The Impala continued to roll, half on the pavement and half off, slowing by degrees. He was already out of the Durango and running, yanking the driver's side door open and engaging the parking brake as he pushed Dean's foot forcefully off the gas. The car stopped. Cas fell back in his seat, breathing heavily.
Zee slammed out of the SUV and looked in the passenger side window, past Castiel, at Dean.
Cas peeled Dean's eyelids back and peered into his eyes. Cas frowned.
"What is it?" Sam asked. "What's doing this? Why is he sleeping again?"
"Again?" Cas looked up sharply. "This happened before?"
Sam looked unhappily over at Zee, whose lips were tight in a flat line.
A car door opened and shut behind them, followed by the sound of light running footsteps.
"Dammit." Zee swore succinctly. "TOBY!"
She started after him, and flinched when she moved, pulling on her right with a grimace.
"I'll get him." Sam said shortly.
It took him a minute, his longer strides making short work of the distance. He didn't even try to calm Toby down, just nabbed him and swaddled him securely so the kid wasn't beating on his head with both fists, carrying him back towards the Impala and to Zee, who took his hands, and said. "Toby. Stop. Stop."
The kid looked at her, completely freaked, before stealing a glance at Dean, his lower lip trembling. "He's going to turn. He'll be like Mother. He'll …."
Zee put both hands on Toby's face, steadying him, forcing him to look into her eyes. Her voice was calm and steady when she addressed the boy.
"The Dean you know is still in there. He's just got to fight it." She held the kid's eyes. "He's just going to need a little help. Can we do that? Give him a chance?"
Toby darted another look at Dean, where Dean was now slumped against the seat, out like a light. Sam felt the tremor that shook the kid from head to foot. Once, twice, three times, fear spiking uncontrolled. Zee breathed deeply and evenly, her hands steady, her gaze steady until Toby breathed with her.
Finally the kid nodded.
"Alright. Stay in the car. Got it?"
Toby nodded once, his face tense. He set Toby down slowly. The boy headed back to the SUV, one hand dipping into the pocket where he kept the lighter and staying there, curled into a fist around the only weapon he had. Sam looked at Zee, the certainty in her words lingering like a clear note in his mind.
"We need to leave this area immediately." Cas injected.
Sam traded a look with Zee. She nodded curtly and took the Durango's keys out of his hand.
"I'll manage. Let's go."
They manhandled the unconscious/sleeping Dean into the back seat of the Impala. Sam had an uncomfortable instant of déjà vu, placing Dean's limp cold hand on his chest so it would be out of the way of the door before closing it. He slid into the driver's seat and started up the engine, bringing the wheels carefully back onto the road as the SUV pulled ahead and took the lead.
He glanced worriedly back at Dean behind him in the rearview mirror. He huffed out a sigh, as Cas followed his eyes. And then there was Cas.
"Cas, what is this? What's making him sleep?"
"A spell." Cas said, looking warily behind them at the empty road as if he expected a chase to materialize behind them at any moment.
"What the child said. About Dean turning…"
"Back at the motel. There was a moment. His eyes…went white."
It hadn't been just Dean's eyes. It had been the expression on Dean's face.
Hunger.
Part of him understood why Toby was so freaked. The possibility of Dean turning into a zombie like Mother was …
"What are they, Cas? It's not just zombies. We've never seen zombies this powerful before."
Cas looked away before answering.
"Souls. Taken from the Veil and shoved back into corpses."
Sam sucked in a sharp breath. The blue light that flew from the First Blade.
"Souls torn out of Heaven."
"What?"
"Heaven has been taken by the Fallen."
And with that Cas fell silent, brooding again.
"Cas?"
Cas glanced back at Dean asleep behind them, not answering, something stuck unspoken in his throat.
"They cannot be allowed to get control of Dean." Was all Cas would say. "Everything he can do, the power of the First Blade—you cannot let it happen."
Dawn blushed across the top of the Smokies, the morning haze cool as they wound their way down the mountains, taking turn after turn. The road straightened; stretching out its sharp kinks into the rolling foothills, tame pasture and vineyard smoothing the landscape over like a checkerboard into the green valley below.
They pulled into a Gas-n-Sip several hours after sunrise. He left Cas to fill up the tank while he went in search of some much needed caffeine, the jagged edges of fatigue heavy on his eyes. He was headed towards the cashier when a glimpse of unexpected movement in the overhead mirror caught his eye.
He threw an elbow behind him, trying to jab his attacker in the ribs. But before he could connect his head was yanked hard back, and he felt cold metal at his throat. He was pulled upright forcefully by the grip in his hair, the blade at his throat never wavering, and marched back through the store's glass doors into the morning light.
Zee glanced up curiously at his quick return, the comment on her lips dying as she took in the situation. She pivoted to Cas, standing by the Impala with the gas nozzle in one hand.
"Dean's anti-possession tat. Burn it off! Burn it off, now!"
Cas was moving before she finished her sentence. He reached in through the rear window and placed his palm over the spot on Dean's chest where the tattoo was. Dean's breath hissed out when blue light flashed between Cas' palm and his skin, waking up with a growl, scanning all around him, eyes black.
Demon.
Dean didn't bother with the car door. He simply teleported, vanished right out of the Impala into thin air. Before Sam could even blink he was blown face forward into the ground by a blast of bright white light – grace? – and it was a reflex to drop and roll and draw his own angel blade, to turn on whatever danger was nearest.
Dean.
Dean stood behind him, eyes dark and anger radiating off him, looking at him, looking into him, seeing all the faults and crevices and failings that riddled his soul.
"Go ahead, Dean." Said a familiar velvet voice. "You want to. You know you do."
Sam looked up. Gray suit, gray tie, and an idle, cold smile he remembered from that church in Geary.
"Arkas."
Over by the gas pumps Cas was being held hostage again by a second gray suited angel, Cas' arms wrenched behind him, the point of an angel blade poised against Cas' chin. Arkas had brought more minions this time, eight angels, spread out in a ring around them, silvery blades drawn and flickering in the late morning light.
The black Durango behind the Impala was empty, Zee and Toby nowhere to be seen.
Arkas took a step forward, a knowing, confidential smile on his face as he approached Dean.
"Did Cain ever tell you what he felt when he killed Abel?"
Dean's head turned slowly towards Arkas, scanning him with an impersonal glance. The angel leaned forward, and lowered his voice.
"Relieved. He felt relieved. Relieved he no longer had to watch over his little brother. Always having to bail him out of one thing after another. Always having to look out for him. He was finally free. Free of his responsibility. Free of his burden."
The First Blade quivered in Dean's hand, those dark eyes pulling away from the gray suited figure as Dean turned towards him.
Sam stopped breathing, looking into the darkness of his brother's eyes, seeing his reflection in that mirror blackness, seeing his own tainted and patched-up soul, never measuring up, never enough to make things right.
Maybe what Arkas said was true.
"Sam, he's lying." Cas got out, stopping when the angel blade at his throat dug in and the bright light of Theo's grace glowed through.
"Am I, Castiel? And whose grace is it that's powering you now? That's right. Theo's. You remember. Our brother. So maybe, I wouldn't talk." Arkas curled his lip in a sneer. "Well, boys. Since we're all about family, I have a little present for you, courtesy of your pal Cas."
The angel reached into his suit jacket, drawing out a squirming ball of blue light.
"Getting rid of Samandriel was impressive, Dean. But I can see you're a sentimentalist, deep under that mangy, macho exterior." Arkas smiled thinly, looking at the soul in his hand. "So what do you say to a chat with dear old Dad, hmm? Bet he'd love to see what you've been up to lately. What you've become."
Sam didn't even think. There was a hot buzzing blankness between his ears and he was midair before Arkas even finished speaking, the angel blade pointed straight for the bastard's throat with a lunge. He found himself airborne again before he crashed into the gas pump, the metal ridges digging into his back painfully as Arkas flicked his other hand negligently.
"Come now, Sam. Surely you've learned from last time."
Dean moved forward, swinging the blade, point low.
Arkas held the bright soul in his hand higher.
Dean stopped uncertainly.
"Poor thing. Not sure what to do?" Arkas' smile widened. "Maybe Daddy can help."
Arkas stepped forward, the blue ball of light raised in one hand, held against his upraised palm in a smiting gesture. Dean flinched back violently from the light, blinking like it pained him, burned him. Dean turned his eyes away, shuddering violently, trying to keep his feet but slowly going to his knees, one arm coming up to ward off the light as it danced blue white over his skin.
Sam struggled against the invisible force that pressed him firmly against the gas pump.
"DEAN!"
Dean wasn't listening. The blue glow in the angel's hand pulsated and squirmed like no soul Sam had ever seen do before, straining against the angel's tight grasp. Arkas' lips tightened irritably and he clenched the bright orb of soul tighter, moving ever closer to Dean in front of him.
Arkas' attention was taken up completely wrestling the ball of light in his hand and the Knight of Hell before him that Sam felt the pinning force on him slip away like distraction. He had momentum by the time he hit Arkas in the chest, taking him down in a flying tackle that sent them both skidding along the ground, fighting for the soul in Arkas' hand.
There was motion behind him.
Dean, the First Blade poised over both of them, a terrible anger in the blackness of his eyes.
For the next infinite second, everything was still.
Then there was the sickeningly distinctive squelch of flesh being cut. The gray angel screamed as the First Blade hacked through his wrist, severing it. The ball of light zipped off as the fingers that gripped it loosened, sailing high and skyward, disappearing into the sun. Blood spurted from the angel's truncated arm, both blood and light as Arkas threw him off one-handed with enough force to send him halfway across the gas station, crashing into one of the vertical posts hard. His head smacked up against the concrete, and his world went dark.
She'd grabbed Toby out of the back seat of the car and just run. She had one hand over his mouth for good measure, kneeling quietly behind the Gas-n-Sip's dumpster. The angels paid them no attention whatsoever. They had what they wanted.
The brothers. And Castiel.
"GET THE DEMON! GET HIM!" Arkas screamed at the others, clutching his severed limb, the angry twist of his thin face bordering on insane. "KILL HIM NOW!"
One angel was startled into a protest, "But Ramiel said…"
"I SAID KILL HIM!"
Using his good hand, Arkas cauterized his bleeding stump with a flash of blue light and an inelegant grunt. He got slowly to his feet, cold blue eyes fixed on the demon holding the bloody Blade.
"Ramiel wants you and your brother and Castiel alive. Why, I can't imagine. But you know, Knight, accidents happen. I'll apologize profusely, but he'll understand. He'll just have to make do with Sam."
The demon swung the First Blade in a wide low arc, keeping the angels around him at bay.
"Finish him off."
When they rushed, the angels moved in unison, closing in on the demon from all directions. Bright light blew out from the angel's eyes and mouths as the demon blade thrust and sliced, vibrating with darkness, shadows coalescing around it and the demon that held it like a black nimbus. The light of grace blew out of noses and mouths as the angels fell one by one lifeless to the ground, the ancient jawbone sinking with a sucking sound into chests before being pulled out again by the demon that wielded it, rage and carnage thrumming in every stroke.
But there were too many. The last angel got behind the demon and seized him while the First Blade was embedded in the chest of another, grasping him by his wrist and immobilizing his arm. Arkas stepped forward into the fray, his silver blade held high, a tight, vicious smile on his lips.
He plunged the angel blade straight through the Mark of Cain on the demon's forearm.
With an inhuman howl of pain, the demon sank to the ground, the First Blade slipping limply from his hand. A red molten glow from the Mark melted up the silver blade, which blazed blue white in turn, too bright to look at. Arkas sank the angel blade home, driving it in to the hilt, right down through the demon's forearm, the square thickness of the blade completely obscuring Lucifer's brand.
The Mark's red glow faded. Streaks of white traced up the demon's arms along his veins like lightening, and small wisps of smoke began to curl off the demon's skin. The smell of charred flesh wafted through the air as the Mark of Cain started to flicker with fire.
She clamped her hand more firmly over Toby's mouth, muffling his telltale protest. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Castiel twisting violently around, seizing the advantage while his captor was distracted by the Mark of Cain burning.
Dean, burning.
She let go of Toby's hand with a final squeeze to stay and moved.
It was too easy. Too easy to just pick up one of the angel blades lying on the ground. Too easy to slip between the angel who had his hands full and the demon he was restraining. Too easy to ram the blade into the angel's sternum and drive it in until grace blew out as a blast of power, numbing her arm, forcing her down on one knee. She gripped the hilt tightly, holding the knife steady until the body slipped limply off, the vessel's eyes charred and blank, the charcoal shadow of great wings splashed on the ground before her.
The moment his arm was free, Dean swung and clubbed Arkas across his nose, sending the gray angel flying across the gas station and crashing into a pillar between the pumps. The noise woke Sam, shaking his head groggily, rolling and getting his feet under him, looking warily around.
With a twist Dean pulled the angel blade loose from where it was embedded in his arm, that arm healing, skin knitting over and reforming the Mark of Cain as if the wound had never been. He looked across at Arkas, struggling to rise, then at the bloody angel blade in his hand, and cast aside heaven's weapon with a careless flick.
The First Blade shot off the ground into Dean's now empty palm, and a smile, as cold as the angel's, played around Dean's lips. A dark curl of smoke came off the First Blade, new, different, gathering in thickness and density, streaking out towards the fallen angel, wrapping around him, binding him, round and round until Arkas was trussed, squirming futilely and screaming as the smoke rope tightened and ate into his flesh.
The rope squeezed tighter. Bits of light bled through, like cracks in the vessel's skin. Twisting in the light were dark threads, tracery and lacework like blood spreading in water. The dark threads merged with the smoke rope, the growing mass finely spiked like barbed wire, somehow alive and twisting.
Panicked, Arkas thrashed in vain, looking in horror at the demon ten feet away from him.
His expression unchanging, Dean turned the First Blade once in his hand.
The angel exploded. Grace burst out in all directions as the rope tightened and collapsed in, squeezing the grace out in one great burst of energy, the flesh and bone of the vessel charred to cinder and fine ash in the explosion. Twisted and woven into the blast were pieces of the gray angel's dying cries, hoarse and panting, fear and more fear lingering in the air.
Dead silence reigned.
Zee didn't move. It seemed prudent not to.
Castiel straightened slowly. Cautiously.
"Dean." He said carefully.
The demon turned to look at him. Silent, like a dark tide.
Sam just stood where he was, the grip on his angel blade unchanging even though there were no more angels left standing.
The silver blade in her hand felt cold. The round hilt was bulky, the balance of it strange, the reach pathetic. Her arm was still numb from the blowback of grace, frozen stiffly in front of her.
"Dean."
Sam's voice. Low and carefully even. Barely a whisper.
The demon kept turning, turning until he faced her, the liquid blackness of his eyes looking at her, at the weapon in her hand, at her silence. Dark eyes traced the flat line of her lips, the narrow set of her eyes, the latent intent in them.
She already knew he could move faster than she could blink. Anything she could do would be futile.
Impulsive. She had been impulsive, the drive of her gut overriding common sense. It would have been simpler if she did not know the shape of his smile, the shadows of his loves, the memories of his heart. It would have been easier to shut it all out had she not known the imprint of his hand clasping hers, steady through hours of fire and darkness.
Toby was out there behind her. She had to try.
She met that dark gaze, breathing slow and even. Waiting. Watching as the black faded from his eyes and she was left looking into green eyes, green the color of new leaves, bright like the sun shone from behind them.
The angel blade clanked to the ground, falling from her ungraceful fingers. Time slowed like ley lines blurring, trapped in that eagle green gaze. Right or wrong or wronger or righter, misty in the gray ash that was the remains of an angel, drifting downwards to the ground, settling in thin drifts over the wingspan emblazoned wide on the asphalt.
What had she done?
The hard impact that was Toby running into her jarred the moment loose. The boy's thin arms wrapped around her waist as Toby darted a look at Dean, uncertainty clouding his face. A tremor shook the kid from head to foot, adrenaline, too much of it; his fragile toehold on what passed for normal in a world of demons and angels and zombies and hunters, upended and turned all around in the space of a night.
What the hell was she doing?
Toby trembled involuntarily again. He bit his lips inwards, trying to control it.
This was no place for a kid.
"Come on." She said quietly, turning away. "We should go."
Sunlight glared off the Impala's sleek blackness. A blue Mustang whooshed by on the road, the engine hum reverberating in the silence. Behind her, the boys were doing that wordless conferral thing again, look after look, a shrug of the shoulders, a twitch of the hand, a tilt of the head.
"Zee."
Dean's deep voice carried, even though he spoke quietly.
She inclined her head slightly, not meeting his eyes.
"Angel warding sigils, you know them?"
She shook her head just the once, a bitter laugh stuck in her throat. That wasn't in the books. It wasn't in the lore. On a normal day, you didn't need to ward against angels.
She was getting ready to move again when Castiel's weary footsteps fell in beside her.
"I'll come with you. The sigils. It'll be faster if I show you."
She closed her eyes briefly. Complications. It would be complicated to stay entangled, to have this thread drifting across the miles, tying them one to the other, still caught in the outer swirls of the Winchester maelstrom. But she wasn't fast enough. She couldn't protect the kid whose hand was trustingly in hers.
She nodded assent with her head still turned away, moving towards the Durango without looking back.